I Wish I Could Help Her
by Infinite Number
Summary: Princess Elsa is finally having her coronation! As the people of Arendelle rejoice and celebrate, a strange visitor to the kingdom muses on their unique perspective on the Queen-to-be and the events that molded her into the woman she is today, hoping she can one day open her doors and embrace life. Set in the canon universe.


_Well, I guess this is it. The big day. This is what she's been raised for since her birth. Her destiny. But this is too soon. She doesn't need this now, not with the burdens she already carries. Not without her parents, not while she's deathly afraid of her own sister._

_Elsa shouldn't be having her coronation today, but she has no choice._

_I wish I could help her, but she doesn't even know I exist._

* * *

I'm alone. Sometimes I lose track of how long I've spent, how much of my life I've spent aimlessly floating around. I've met a few people. I don't get along with them and they don't get along with me, but I respect them. More than they'll ever know. But I don't belong in their world. People love them.

But they see right through me.

* * *

I can't help but remember the day I first saw Elsa.

I was fond of traveling. Still am, actually. With no one to care for, no one to notice me, I'm free. Free to go wherever, whenever I want to go. So I traveled, desperately hoping to find a place, to find my purpose, the reason for my being here, _being alive_.

She was so young then. I remember admiring her home, her _castle_. I know nothing of architecture. In fact, there's not much I _do _know, but I knew enough to understand its beauty. I understood that it was built to be a home, not just for the Royal Family, but also for their subjects. It was tall, large and imposing.

But it was welcoming.

And there, illuminated by a beam of moonlight, was a little girl with platinum hair.

Ice flowed from her fingers.

* * *

It took me a while to learn her name. I had left the kingdom for sometime and when I returned she had grown, just a little. She had been gazing outside her window when a man, dressed smart and looking regal, approached her. He called her to him. I gave them their privacy, but couldn't help but look closer when two small squeals filled the air.

A figure had darted from behind the man's legs and leapt into Elsa's arms. The squeals were borne of their delight, as they joyously spun each other around. The man - their father, I realize - their _king_ - nods appreciatively before he turns and leaves the room.

Elsa drops the second figure to the ground before ruffling her strawberry blonde hair. Freckles adorn her face, far more concentrated than those on Elsa's.

This is her sister.

* * *

_The coronation seems to be proceeding according to plan. I'm flitting between stalls, eavesdropping on families and ambassadors, the town gossips and soldiers. So far, I've yet to hear anything of her powers. She hasn't hurt anyone, hasn't had an accident._

_I'm relieved._

_I'm relieved that Elsa is safe, relieved that her greatest fear is nothing more than a figment of her imagination, but I'm still in distress._

_Why must she be so terrified of herself?_

* * *

One thing I've learned to appreciate about my condition, my constant isolation, is the anonymity it provides. No one notices anything awry when I slip through a half-opened door. No one raises an alarm when I follow the sound of laughter, the sounds of winter as I glide through the halls. I don't know why I'm here. I think it's simple curiosity. Who is this Elsa, this little girl, gifted with both power _and_ love? What is it that I have to learn from her?

My quest leads me to a large, imposing door. It's closed, but I can hear the muffled sounds of two little girls playing together. Living life. I choose to stay where I am and listen, just _listen_, to the life I've always dreamed I could have.

_"Catch me!"_

_"Gotcha!"_

_"Again!"_

_"Slow down! ANNA!"_

* * *

I follow them as their parents ride through the night, one girl unconscious, the other terrified. I follow them, even when they move faster as Anna grows ever colder. I try to look at Elsa's face, desperately hoping she'll be fine, that she won't hold herself accountable for that terrible accident. Ice trails behind us as we proceed, deeper and deeper into the forest. I glance ahead, noticing a small boy admiring a block of ice.

* * *

_At this point, I look up to see a blond man arguing fiercely with a salesman, gesturing at a sled. A reindeer stands obediently by his side, only to duck and grab a carrot from his hand, swallowing it with one bite. The movement takes but a moment and the man turns, raising an eyebrow and placing his hands on his hips. The reindeer pops half the carrot out of his mouth, covered in saliva. The man pays no attention to the liquid, simply breaking it in half over his friend's teeth before taking a bite for himself._

_The salesman loses his spirit and acquiesces to the man's demands. I can't say I blame him._

* * *

If I felt sorry for Elsa when the troll carelessly destroyed her life with his words, I felt devastated to see her father's plans put into action. I feel even worse as I see Elsa accept his wishes with no complaint, even asking him to impose further restrictions on her, for her sister's sake. The man agrees.

She is only eight years old.

Many days later I hear her sister knock on her door.

_"Do you wanna build a snowman?"_

When Elsa turns her away I feel furious. I wish I could seize the troll, her mother or father and demand they set things right, but I can't.

Instead I watch as, a few minutes later, she tentatively opens the door and peers out. She sighs with relief when she realizes her sister has gone.

I move into the room before she closes it.

Now, she's watching her sister build her snowman. It's a daunting process for all three of us. Anna, because this is her first winter, her first snow day, without Elsa. Even from up here we can see the pain in her face and how she struggles to hide it with each ball of snow she rolls, each stick she forces into her creation's sides with unnecessary force, how every so often she pauses to wipe tears from her face before they get too cold for her to remain outside, too afraid to return home. Elsa struggles with herself. I can see the conflict within her. Her sister is in the snow, _her_ element, yet she can't bring herself to join her, for fear of hurting her once more.

Anna eventually succeeds in burying her emotions as her snowman nears completion. Her smile is contagious for Elsa as she takes comfort in the fact that her sister is able to live life without her. She leans into the glass and I wonder if I could once again try and speak to her, comfort her, tell her everything will be fine...

* * *

It's my fault. When the ice crept up the sill and onto the window, she recoiled. With Anna occupied she saw no harm in leaving her room, running to her father's study and crying, _sobbing_ that she couldn't control her powers, that she couldn't make him proud, that she'd let Anna down once more. Her father grew contemplative.

A few days later I find him kneeling before her. Elsa holds out her arms one at a time and her father traps them within simple white gloves. Prisons.

He places both of his hands over Elsa's left.

_"The gloves will help. See? Conceal it..."_

_"Don't feel it."_

_"Don't let it show."_

They smile at each other, oblivious to the sound of my frustration.

* * *

_A lot of time has passed. I have continued my stroll through the town. I've seen decorations being torn down and appropriated for other purposes by children. I've seen commemorative flags and portraits being sold. I've seen old friends meet, rivals settle their differences, families reunited to celebrate this most wonderful day._

_It's times like these that my sense of longing evolves into jealousy and seething anger._

_My wandering has brought me to the chapel. I wait outside for a few moments before the doors open and people march out. Men and women dressed exquisitely, no doubt Royals or diplomats from other nations. I see the short Duke I saw earlier that morning. He has abandoned his bodyguards and is instead muttering his plans to himself. The woman beside him overhears this before subtly motioning to one of the guards, whispering in his ear, pointing to the man now twirling his mustache, obviously pleased with himself. I can't wait to see what happens to him next._

_The last person to leave is a fairly tall man with thick sideburns, dressed in a white suit with gold embroidery. I watch as he stops and turns, facing the door. I observe him from a distance. He seems to be deep in thought. Worried, I move closer. When I do I see that his expression is one of contemplation, not suspicion. I relax. Elsa's secret appears to be safe. The door to the chapel is still ajar, so I move towards it. Just before I slip through I look back. The man, whoever he is, has gone._

_The interior of the chapel is immense and breathtaking, its beauty only enhanced by the silence._

_At least, the _near _silence._

_At the front of the hall stand Elsa and Anna, evidently having waited for their guests to leave before returning to the castle. While I'm sure the man who hoped for them to look "absolutely lovely" got his wish, I'm not interested in their dresses or jewelry._

_I instead look at Elsa's hands. Once again, they are gloved. They are long, pale and blue, serving as a constant reminder of the lie she's grown up with. I watch as Anna shuffles her feet as the new Queen speaks in hushed tones to the Bishop. The man leaves. Anna tries to speak but Elsa has already followed him. My disappointment is reflected in the Princess' face but I tell her that Elsa will learn in time. She has had a successful coronation and she will have a successful reign. Soon the gloves will come off and they can be happy again._

_She can't hear me._

* * *

The years pass by. Elsa withdraws further into her room and herself, her fear of her powers only increasing as she grows. I see her panic, meditate, hurt herself and attempt countless other methods of burying away that part of herself, of her identity. Nothing works and not once is she given the opportunity to understand _why_. I watch as her terror prevents her from accepting her parents' aid, flinching at the very thought of making _contact_ with them. I see Anna, knocking everyday without fail on the door, begging her to speak, to come outside, to _see her face_ outside of mealtimes or chance meetings in the halls. And sometimes she asks the same question she asked almost a lifetime ago, even for me.

_"Do you wanna build a snowman?"_

I don't understand why I'm still here, after all these years of making no progress. I think it's because I still have hope. Hope that, even if _I_ can't help her, her parents will realize the error of their ways. Hope that her sister will always be on the other side of that door, waiting patiently. Hope that, maybe, Elsa _herself_ will realize the error of her ways, discard the gloves and accept herself for who she is, removing that wooden barrier between herself and the world.

* * *

I suppose my first warning was seeing Anna approach Elsa's door, pause, then keep walking, utterly dejected. Seeing someone so cheerful, so admirable as her simply give up after all those years shook me. My second warning came soon after, on one of the few occasions Elsa left her room. It was the idea that, even within her home, she felt the need to wear gloves, stand upright, _not even trust herself to approach her departing parents..._

_"Do you have to go?"_

_"You'll be fine Elsa."_

My third warning came soon after. The day the inhabitants of the castle wore black. The day the town fell into mourning.

The day she learned she was an orphan.

She couldn't even bring herself to attend their funeral, instead wallowing in her own despair, snow and ice coating the walls and hovering in the air. I stayed with her that day. I didn't know what I intended to do, how I intended to help, so I just stood there, leaning against a wall, hoping for the best. Finally, we heard a knock at the door.

_"Elsa? Please, I know you're in there..."_

We heard Anna slide to the floor, voice choking. Once more, she asked _"__the question"_, desperation in her voice.

_"Do you wanna build a snowman?"_

All three of us knew what she really meant by that request. Elsa struggled with herself as I watched with bated breath, but whatever she wanted to say died in her throat. She sunk her head as we heard Anna's sobs echo through the door.

It finally dawned on me that there was nothing I could do for her. It hurt me immensely, but all I could do was wish her luck, beg her to look inside herself to find the truth and her strength before I left, my heart just as heavy as theirs.

I forced myself to stay away, but could only manage to do so for three years.

* * *

_When the snow begins to fall, the white and cold contrasting brilliantly with the warmth and darkness of the July night, I wonder if Elsa has chosen to reveal her secret to her people, possibly as justification for the castle's closed doors or as a sign of honesty or gesture of good faith._

_Just as quickly, I chide myself for the foolish notion, instead looking over the frozen fjord, a glimmer of blue light quickly fading into the woods on the other side._

_I wander the streets for some time, watching as Elsa's subjects begin to huddle together, or lock themselves indoors. Eventually I see the man with the thick sideburns, calling himself "Prince Hans of the Southern Isles", march among those still outdoors, declaring his intentions to aid the people in their plight while telling them Anna has gone in search of her sister to set things right._

_My instincts tell me to join the search. I know I can be much faster than her, that I can track better than her. I turn back to the point across the fjord where I saw the blue light. I could find Elsa right away._

_But my heart tells me to stop. There's nothing I can do for Elsa. I always respected her sister, but hearing that she has already ridden off into the night to find her and bring her home has bolstered that sentiment immensely. I realize that Elsa's best chance lies in the one person who always believed in her._

_The word choice was purely unintentional as far as I'm aware, yet still forces a bitter laugh from my lips. No one heard me, but guilt consumes me nonetheless. I can't help but recall the first time I attempted to speak to the blonde. Of course, back then she had still been "the girl"..._

* * *

It's been a day, almost twenty four hours, since I first saw her, but I haven't been able to rest. I couldn't introduce myself then as she was already half asleep, her flurries simply a means of burning through her excess energy. Today, I arrived at the castle sooner. The girl had retired to her quarters but was yet to approach her bed, instead walking purposefully across the far side of the room, possibly searching for something. The window was open, so I slipped inside with ease.

I stand there, framed in moonlight, unable to speak, wholly unlike myself. It is with a nervous voice that I call out to her.

"He - hello?"

She doesn't respond, instead kneeling down and inspecting the floor. I tell myself she is too focused on her search to notice me. I step forward and try again.

"Little girl?"

She stands and turns to face me and my heart soars. She steps forward and I prepare myself for company, at long last.

But she passes right through me.

I gasp, clutching at my chest. It hurts. I remember when I first learned of my cursed existence, how I felt when I knew I could never have a place to call home, friends or family. The pain dulled over the years but has returned with full force. After all, I had spent all of today hoping this girl could give me the answers I've been seeking for so long, tell me what I was doing wrong, what I could do to fix myself.

"Can't you see me?"

The girl has already wrapped herself up in her blankets. She's sleepier than she was yesterday. She isn't producing any displays of magic tonight. I ask myself why I was brought here. What was she meant to teach me? She is loved, has a home and family. I have none of those things. I understand that. What makes us different? What can I do to change that? How can I hope to better myself if I can't ask her these things? How can I become a _somebody_ if I don't know how to take the first step? I walk over to her and hover my hand over her eyes, thinking aloud when she fails to react.

"I was so sure that you, of all people, could help me." I thought we were two peas in a pod, that she was to be my salvation. I guess I was wrong.

She turns her head, a contented smile covering her face as she finds a comfortable position.

"You don't believe in me, do you?"

Her eyes have closed. In a few minutes, she'll be sound asleep. I continue talking though, to both of us.

"No one believes in Jack Frost."


End file.
